


Had Enough?

by ayerlind



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clint is snarky, Gen, M/M, Natasha can drink anyone under the table, Tony gets in over his head, and Rhodey is a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayerlind/pseuds/ayerlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony rubbed his fingertips together under the table.  Slight tingle, but hardly drunk.  Tardly even hipsy. Er.  Strike that, reverse it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Had Enough?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greatbriton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatbriton/gifts).



> Briton asked for Natasha drinking Tony under the table a few days ago, and I felt crazy enough to give it a shot. Ha. Shot. Get it? *ba dum ch* x.x Since I'm not really a drinker, I had to google 'how many shots does it take to get wasted?' 
> 
> Then, since it's Tony and Natasha, I raised the bar considerably. XD 
> 
> Unbeta'd, spur of the moment. Bonus Tony/Rhodey and Clintasha if you squint. It was well-received on tumblr so I figured I'd post it here. Enjoy! And if you see any glaring mistakes, lemme know so I can fix it. :D

"This can't be a good idea.  Isn't she Russian?"

Tony waved dismissively as if flicking the frankly unnecessary warning back into Rhodey's face.  "How long have you known me, goose?  I've been training for this day since I was fourteen. If Angrybird over there would shut up for five seconds about how she's the most amazing thing to ever happen in the history of creation and can do anything, including but not limited to drinking me -  _me_ , Rhodey - under the table, we wouldn't even be here.  Besides."  He grinned and flashed two fingers at the bartender, indicating the number of shots that he wanted, then slid a few dollars across the bar.  "Look at how tiny she is.  I couldn't possibly lose. Tell me I'm wrong.  Or don't, because you can't.  Because I'm not." 

Rhodey tried not to roll his eyes, glancing across the room to where Barton and Romanov had their heads together, discussing something that involved deadly looking smirks, money changing hands, and Barton looking uncharacteristically, terrifyingly gleeful.  Rhodey took a gulp from his own drink and leaned against the bar, knocking his shoulder against Tony's. "You probably are," he said.  When the other engineer looked over with a glare, Rhodey forestalled his argument with a J&B-flavoured kiss and and shook his head, putting one hand up in a placating gesture.  "Just sayin'.  Be careful." 

*

"Two down," Clint announced unnecessarily, eyes flicking back and forth between Tony and Natasha.

Natasha flipped her empty shot glass, then put it back down and slid it toward Clint, who had somehow managed to procure a bottle of whiskey from the bartender. 

"Thanks," Tony told him dryly, doing the same with a challenging grin across the table.  "Because we can't count."  

*

"Four."

Tony hummed 'Don't Stop Believing', tapping his toes under the table. 

Natasha looked bored. If bored included an amused, vaguely homicidal undertone.  Which, for most people, it probably didn't. 

Tony considered that a victory in and of itself.

*

"Six."

Tony rubbed his fingertips together under the table.  Slight tingle, but hardly drunk.  Tardly even hipsy. Er.  Strike that, reverse it. 

*

"Seven," Clint murmured. Tony's less-than-coordiated hand groped for something to throw at him, but all he could come up with was a shot glass, and when had the shot glasses gotten so heavy?  Oh, it had another shot in it already.  That explained it. Too precious to waste by bouncing it off of the archer's forehead, then.  

Also, Clint would probably just catch it.  Then he would probably kill Tony with it.  Tony saw Riddick; he's not stupid. If Vin Diesel can do it with a teacup, Hawkeye could probably do it with a shot glass. 

*

"Nine..."  Clint's voice had taken on a slightly disbelieving drawl.  Tony looked across the table at him, intent on smirking, since obviously the disbelief came from the fact that he was currently winning this, but then he stopped.  When had Barton grown a second head?  Tony blinked a few times, then giggled.  Nope. Just one head. 

Each.  

Why were there two of him?  

Natasha's lips twitched. 

*

"Eleven.  You doin' okay, Stark?"

"Doing you more okay."  Tony furrowed his brow.  He was pretty sure that that had started as a fully formed sentence in his brain. He licked his lips and tried again. "Okay than you."  Partially right... still mostly not.  

"Did he just say he was going to do me?" Clint asked, arching an eyebrow at Natasha.  

*

"Thirteen."

Tony turned to slide his shot glass back over to one of the fuzzy Clints, head heavy, and whacked his chin against Rhodey's shoulder.  Where had he come from?  And when did Tony start leaning on him?  "...Doing?" he asked with a vague hand-gesture.  Hopefully it conveyed something that Rhodey would understand in his vast and deep knowledge of Tony-speak, since Tony  _actually_  speaking seemed like a really horrible idea right then.  In fact, so did moving.  Or breathing. 

Rhodey caught him by the wrist before he could knock anything over with the flailing hand.  "Making sure you don't get a concussion  _when_  you fall out of this booth," he replied patiently.

*

"I think we should cap it at fifteen."

Natasha glanced over at Clint from where she was building something out of swizzle sticks and chewing gum. Something that looked rather disturbingly like a tiny, fully functional trebuchet.  Clint nodded across the table and she let a slow grin creep over her face.  "Had enough?" she asked Tony. Or at least, the space where Tony used to be.

"No," he answered, although his voice was muffled.  Muffled by the fact that he had actually slid down from the bench seat to sit on the floor.  Under the table. And also had his face pressed against Rhodey's leg.

Natasha exchanged a smirk with Clint.  She had a long-standing reputation for drinking people under the table, but this might be the first time it had ever taken on a literal connotation. 

"You've had enough," Rhodey informed him, a hand carding gently through the billionaire's hair. 

Tony responded by promptly throwing up on Rhodey's pantleg. 


End file.
